Leaving First

I am the Queen of Overthinking, and trust me when I say it’s probably the most toxic throne.

Overthinking is a slow poison made up of worst case scenarios I conjure up in my head that may or may not be rooted in actual reality but they are always rooted in a “perceived reality”, which is just a fancy word for “my worst nightmare”.

I’ve had too many people who I cared deeply about leave me so I’ve gotten good at coping in an ongoing state of abandonment.

My brain is a mess: an ocean of metaphors, depth, wit, sass, intellect, research, negative self-talk, self-deprecating jokes, anguish, control, worst case scenarios, genuine love, care, a need to be needed and a need to be wanted and sought after and the list keeps going.

When I try to be “less” for other people’s comfort to avoid the inevitable day when they decide to leave, then I feel disingenuous to myself.

So I leave first.

Knowing that most people have, and eventually will leave, I beat them to the punch because it hurts less.

It still hurts, but at least I did it before they did. It was only a matter of time before they’d do it, or maybe they avoid conflict so they may have never done it “officially”, but eventually I’d get the picture when they turn into a ghost.

My whole life has been about what I can do for others to love them well, and finding intentional ways to show appreciation and genuine thoughtful care, because these are things I have been starved of. There is something in my head that believes that I’m unworthy of being loved unless I earn it by filling the cups of others to an overflow so that maybe some of the residual will drip into mine.

So I leave first.

Not because I want to.

But because I have already made up in my nightmare that they already did, and are just trying to come up with the “right words” to lessen the blow.

I’ll be reprogramming my mind til the end of time to stop infusing the poison of overthinking and worst case scenarios into every facet of my life. I hope there will come a day when I don’t have to fight that war on my own.

My best case scenario is knowing that maybe somewhere out there there’s someone who will grab my face and stare me square in the eyes and tell me:

“You’re not too much. You’re enough. Exactly the way you are. I appreciate you. Your brain, your heart, all of it. You’re not alone. You don’t have to earn my care or love. You have it just by being you. Let’s work together to battle these nightmares of yours, together.”

But until someone stops me, I leave first.